sinatras doll's diary: volume 1
wayyyyyy past the edge of reason. and too many gin and tonicas.
number of cigarrettes smoked since last post: 8
number of alcoholic beverages enbibed: 20
sexual encounters: 0
hot make out sessions: 1
number of times sushi has been involved in the equasion: 3
hours spent slaving away at my place of enployment
(the den of sin that it is): 22
joyous encounters with fuck- wit, dick headded bartender: 2
horrible, caddy and judgemental thoughts about others: 233456450986
horrible, caddy and judgemenatl thoughts about myself: 456987956097
emotional and spiritual breakthrhoughs: 1 1/2
right.
so,
i work at a bar.
that has a restaurant.
on one side.
i mean we serve food on both sides, but one side is "non smoking".
the other is the den of vice and idulgance where hours become mere moments, and flashes of clarity penetrate every so often the countless precious snipets of peoples lives that are wasted away while sitting on display, after thoughfull primping.
drinking, smoking and people watching, watching people watching you, and slipping into that depressive state that alcohol induces while making you believe that you are actually gaining some newer, somehow hipper, sexier, more enlightened outlook on the same old borring shit that plagues your mind day in and day out.
all the while desguised in the most temping, and far more evil desguise than that of say, pin head or freddy creugar, or even the robes of beazelbub himself.
the (cue menacing music):
refreshing, little beverage, in that lovely little tumbler with the nicely sliced, fresh fruit garnish and two little black straws like antennae right to your soul and whatever ales you.
this my beloved darlings, is how i spent my afternoon, and well into the evening and early morning, yesterday. sunday, the lords day. the day of rest, and sabbath.
at my most innebriated point however, i had to do something unthinkable, and heart wrenching, which spawned this emotional and spirtiual breakthrough that i mentioned in my iniquities log. the brakthrough i will detail later, while the gut wrenching and disgustipating details of the catalyst that brought me to the goddesses door i will reveal now.
we have mice in this resaturant, and bar of mine.
yes, mice. eww, i know. it is an extremely old building, downtown, where food and drink is involved and have been for many years, thus the grime, and habitat for rodents is not in short supply. acess by little furry forrigers is almost guaranteed by the unstable crumbling brick underpinnings and rotting wooden beams that you can see the street outside, through the holes that the years and termites have delivered. the moldy, musty basement that houses one of our huge walk in refrigerators, and our alcohol storage room, reeks of the mummified leavings of decades of enhabitants of this incredible, old building, almost assuredly with some sort of sordid past, and very surely its own set of ghouls and goblinns that partayyy down when all the lights are shut off for the night.
at any rate: last night i learned first hand of this mouse issue because aparently the problem has gotten so bad, the owners invested in no, not and exterminator, but a grip of sticky traps.
you know the industrial plastic ones that are rectangular in shape and about the size of a grown mans foot? they have been placed surreptitiously about in the areas that one would assume an unsuspecting mouse might happen to run across whilst nipping off with a neglected piece of produce dropped on the way up the stairs or a cube of bread stolen from the making of croutons.
while drinking and smoking, and smoking and drinking with my co-workers and boyfriend, the bartender asked me if i would run off to the back and grab her a few more bottles of voodoo (rum). i did so, never imagining what was about to occur.
a mouse, very small, squeeking with incredible volume.
stuck, mid stride, to one of those evil traps. and just as i was about to pick up said trap and dispose of it, the bartendress came in behind me, and in an instant as if an automatic switch had been sprung, she burst into the most frightfull torrent of tears i have ever witnessed.
upon hearing this, our waiter christian, who is a lovely chap who never leaves the house without his spurs and a kerchief around his neck (yes, the chingy meatal ones that a cowboy would affix to his boots) comes in behind her, as he has just heard the sobbing and run in from the back waitstation to see if i have mollested or kicked stephany in the shins- since this crying and sobbing that is going on is absolutely abominal, and could obviously be heard even over the strains of nick cave and fischer spooner. (mollesting would be the most likely of those two actions however, since she has the single nicest pair of brests i have ever seen)
upon seeing what i have in my hand he begins to cry as well (a very
sensative young man if you get my meaning) and with deft quickness and reflex borne of only that which could be considered supernatural ninjia style, i grab a small trash bag, place the mouse and trap in it, place it on the floor, and .......
step on it.
right down in one single motion, onto its tiny wriggling body. immediately quieting the deffening screaching from all three of them.
and then, bursting into tears myself.
i put it out of its misery. and in turn, awakened my own.
hence the spiritual, and emotional breakthrough that i will detail in my next post.
adieu for now my loves. please do not hate me for what i did. it was necesary to ease the poor creature of its suffering.
good day.
wayyyyyy past the edge of reason. and too many gin and tonicas.
number of cigarrettes smoked since last post: 8
number of alcoholic beverages enbibed: 20
sexual encounters: 0
hot make out sessions: 1
number of times sushi has been involved in the equasion: 3
hours spent slaving away at my place of enployment
(the den of sin that it is): 22
joyous encounters with fuck- wit, dick headded bartender: 2
horrible, caddy and judgemental thoughts about others: 233456450986
horrible, caddy and judgemenatl thoughts about myself: 456987956097
emotional and spiritual breakthrhoughs: 1 1/2
right.
so,
i work at a bar.
that has a restaurant.
on one side.
i mean we serve food on both sides, but one side is "non smoking".
the other is the den of vice and idulgance where hours become mere moments, and flashes of clarity penetrate every so often the countless precious snipets of peoples lives that are wasted away while sitting on display, after thoughfull primping.
drinking, smoking and people watching, watching people watching you, and slipping into that depressive state that alcohol induces while making you believe that you are actually gaining some newer, somehow hipper, sexier, more enlightened outlook on the same old borring shit that plagues your mind day in and day out.
all the while desguised in the most temping, and far more evil desguise than that of say, pin head or freddy creugar, or even the robes of beazelbub himself.
the (cue menacing music):
refreshing, little beverage, in that lovely little tumbler with the nicely sliced, fresh fruit garnish and two little black straws like antennae right to your soul and whatever ales you.
this my beloved darlings, is how i spent my afternoon, and well into the evening and early morning, yesterday. sunday, the lords day. the day of rest, and sabbath.
at my most innebriated point however, i had to do something unthinkable, and heart wrenching, which spawned this emotional and spirtiual breakthrough that i mentioned in my iniquities log. the brakthrough i will detail later, while the gut wrenching and disgustipating details of the catalyst that brought me to the goddesses door i will reveal now.
we have mice in this resaturant, and bar of mine.
yes, mice. eww, i know. it is an extremely old building, downtown, where food and drink is involved and have been for many years, thus the grime, and habitat for rodents is not in short supply. acess by little furry forrigers is almost guaranteed by the unstable crumbling brick underpinnings and rotting wooden beams that you can see the street outside, through the holes that the years and termites have delivered. the moldy, musty basement that houses one of our huge walk in refrigerators, and our alcohol storage room, reeks of the mummified leavings of decades of enhabitants of this incredible, old building, almost assuredly with some sort of sordid past, and very surely its own set of ghouls and goblinns that partayyy down when all the lights are shut off for the night.
at any rate: last night i learned first hand of this mouse issue because aparently the problem has gotten so bad, the owners invested in no, not and exterminator, but a grip of sticky traps.
you know the industrial plastic ones that are rectangular in shape and about the size of a grown mans foot? they have been placed surreptitiously about in the areas that one would assume an unsuspecting mouse might happen to run across whilst nipping off with a neglected piece of produce dropped on the way up the stairs or a cube of bread stolen from the making of croutons.
while drinking and smoking, and smoking and drinking with my co-workers and boyfriend, the bartender asked me if i would run off to the back and grab her a few more bottles of voodoo (rum). i did so, never imagining what was about to occur.
a mouse, very small, squeeking with incredible volume.
stuck, mid stride, to one of those evil traps. and just as i was about to pick up said trap and dispose of it, the bartendress came in behind me, and in an instant as if an automatic switch had been sprung, she burst into the most frightfull torrent of tears i have ever witnessed.
upon hearing this, our waiter christian, who is a lovely chap who never leaves the house without his spurs and a kerchief around his neck (yes, the chingy meatal ones that a cowboy would affix to his boots) comes in behind her, as he has just heard the sobbing and run in from the back waitstation to see if i have mollested or kicked stephany in the shins- since this crying and sobbing that is going on is absolutely abominal, and could obviously be heard even over the strains of nick cave and fischer spooner. (mollesting would be the most likely of those two actions however, since she has the single nicest pair of brests i have ever seen)
upon seeing what i have in my hand he begins to cry as well (a very
sensative young man if you get my meaning) and with deft quickness and reflex borne of only that which could be considered supernatural ninjia style, i grab a small trash bag, place the mouse and trap in it, place it on the floor, and .......
step on it.
right down in one single motion, onto its tiny wriggling body. immediately quieting the deffening screaching from all three of them.
and then, bursting into tears myself.
i put it out of its misery. and in turn, awakened my own.
hence the spiritual, and emotional breakthrough that i will detail in my next post.
adieu for now my loves. please do not hate me for what i did. it was necesary to ease the poor creature of its suffering.
good day.
VIEW 19 of 19 COMMENTS
guitargeek:
Mmmmmm, car bombs...
yeknomyknuf:
I think I would've cried too, I'm not mad at cha for it, the mice problem had to be dealt with. I'm glad you liked the test, maybe you should move down here so we can improve the population of cool people in Baton Rouge. 
